


time

by RosieClark



Series: Rosie's BTHB prompts [4]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, BTHB, F/M, Hurt Lance, Lance whump, Love Confession, Near Death Experiences, Open Ending, Poison, Pre-Relationship, plance, plangst, prince!lance, regency au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:21:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24725200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosieClark/pseuds/RosieClark
Summary: Lance whimpers, blood beading at his lip from where his teeth pierced his flesh.“It’s okay,” Pidge mutters under her breath, willing her blood soaked hands to be steady as she takes off his outer vest. “You’re okay.”Lance’s face is scrunched up in pain, his breathing labored. "Undressing me already?" his smirk turns into a wince. "Who's being scandalous now?"
Relationships: Lance/Pidge | Katie Holt
Series: Rosie's BTHB prompts [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1730326
Comments: 5
Kudos: 52





	time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AnchoredTether](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnchoredTether/gifts).



> another bthb prompt fill for @anchoredtether! this one had me stumped for a while, but im happy with how it turned out! 
> 
> thank you to ky for the beta work!! 
> 
> requests are still open if you're interested!

It's two hours into the storm when Lance finally loses it. Pidge watches half in horror, half in admiration, as the prince shucks off his jacket and prances out of the makeshift shelter they'd built, the rain soaking him almost immediately.

"What are you doing?" She calls, ignoring the way his shirt sticks to his well toned body, the white fabric leaving nothing to the imagination.

"Oh, come on, Pidge!" He calls, his hair plastered to his forehead, a boyish smile on his lips. "Join me!"

She shakes her head, fighting against her want. Her body itches to go to him. With her nose in the air she summons her most regal court voice. "I will not endorse the Prince fooling around."

He thinks about this, his lips turned downwards into an adorable pout, before his eyes light up and he snaps his fingers. "Fine. Then as your prince, I command you to come out and have some fun." Though his words are serious, his eyes are teasing and she notes the hint of a smile on his lips.

She can’t help her grin. He’s got her there. Who is she to deny a Prince’s orders? Pushing all rational thoughts out of her head, Pidge shucks off her coat and runs into the rain, the cool droplets of water refreshing her skin.

Lance grabs her hand, spinning her around, and she throws her head back and laughs. Not one of those fake laughs that she uses in court, but a real, full bodied laugh that starts at her toes and bubbles in her gut.

She's aware that Lance is laughing with her as they dance, twirling in the mud. The hem of her dress is ruined by now, but she doesn't care. Being here, with Lance, rain falling around them, is all she cares about.

They dance and dance, kicking mud at each other, until their stomachs ache from laughter. 

When she finally stops, Lance is looking at her with a funny look on his face. She brushes her damp bangs from her forehead, suddenly self conscious. Though the rain has soaked her to the bone, she feels all too warm.

"What?"

He just shakes his head. "Nothing."

She doesn't buy it, not in the slightest, and her curiosity gets the better of her. "No tell me!"

"It's just--" Lance rubs the back of his neck. "I wish we could stay like this forever, you and I. I wish we didn't have to go back to the castle and that we didn't have these stupid titles and that we could just be Pidge and Lance."

"Oh?" She doesn't know where her sudden boldness comes from. "And what would Pidge and Lance do?"

"A walk in the woods, perhaps? Followed by dinner in the library and a late night walk to the observatory where we can gaze upon the stars until we grow weary and drift off into sleep?"

Pidge allows herself to giggle, bringing up a hand to hide the blush rising on her cheeks. "Sounds scandalous, your highness."

Lance just smiles. "I assure you, my intentions are nothing but honorable." He grabs her free hand, pressing his lips to her knuckles. "What do you say, m'lady?"

"It sounds..."  _ Lovely _ . She wants to accept, wants to throw her arms around his neck with not a care in the world.

But Lance must marry Princess Allura, to secure the alliance between their nations and present a united force against the Galra. Only when the people see a King and Queen will they rise up and fight for their home.  _ Together _ .

He's assured Pidge several times that the marriage is one of diplomacy, that there are no romantic feelings to back it up, but she has a hard time believing him. What man wouldn't fall in love with Allura, with her beauty and charm and wealth?

So she plasters a smile on her face and gently removes her hand from his, ignoring the flash of hurt on his face. "I think you make too many jokes, your highness."

Lance opens his mouth to respond when his eyes go wide and he's pushing her into the muddy ground, his body landing on top of hers. The breath is sucked out of her lungs, cold fear gripping at her heart as her eyes focus on the arrow embedded deep in the trunk of a tree, not three feet away.

Lance's weight is off her chest and she barely has time to suck in air before his hand grabs hers, yanking her forward. She stumbles to her feet, adrenaline soon making her legs move. At some point Lance lets her go, allowing her to pump her arms and go faster.

They run until her steps become unsteady, her exhaustion catching up with her. She hears no approaching footsteps and sees no enemy soldiers.

Pidge is about to call out to Lance, tell him to stop, that they're in the clear, when an arrow flies over her head. Then another. Before she can blink they're raining down, sticking up in the muddy path.

In front of her, Lance turns, her name on his lips. He begins to run back towards her.

_ No!  _ she wants to say.  _ Turn back! _

But no sound comes out, and he doesn't stop.

An arrow whizzes past her ear, and she watches as it embeds itself in Lance’s thigh. Pidge watches in horror as the prince-- _ her  _ prince--goes down with a grunt.

Her brain on autopilot, her fatigue forgotten, she runs up to Lance's fallen form, grabbing his shoulders forcefully and hauling him to his feet. To his credit, he staggers alongside her, his face a mask of determination and pain.

Rain pelts down on them as they move into the trees, and she hopes the forest will provide them with some much needed cover. Beside her, Lance cries out, stumbling, his breath labored.

Worry runs through her and she spares a look behind them. All clear. It's a risk to stop, but neither of them will last much longer.

Slowly, she brings them to a halt. Lance looks at her, masking his clear pain with confusion.

"Sire, you can barely walk." She points to the log. "Sit."

He hesitates for a second before obliging, wincing as he tries to keep his leg straight. She studies the wound, unsure of how to proceed.

"Well?" Lance asks. "Pull it out already!"

"All due respect, your highness--"

"It's Lance," he says a little too loudly.

"All due respect,  _ Lance, _ " she continues, gesturing at the arrow shaft sticking out of his leg, "if the tip is barbed, pulling it out will cause severe damage."

"So?"

"So, we would need to push the arrow all the way through your leg."

"Then do that!" he snaps, immediately looking apologetic. "I'm sorry Pidge, I didn't meant to--"

She just waves him off. "If I push it through, I risk hitting an artery. You would bleed out before we get to Altea."

Lance's face pales as he takes in both of his options. "Well, when I said 'romantic stroll in the woods,' this was definitely not what I had in mind."

Her face reddens as she remembers his words from before. This was not the time nor the place to be discussing matters like these. "Lance, please--"

It's his turn to wave a hand at her. "I know, I know." He places a hand on her cheek and she finds herself leaning into his touch. "I trust you Pidge. Do what you think is right."

Taking a deep breath, Pidge thinks back, trying to picture the arrows flying past her head.  _ Were _ they barbed? She didn't know. If she gets it wrong one way, he bleeds out before they get help. The other, and he could walk with a limp for the rest of his life. The choice is simple.

"Fair warning, this is going to hurt."

Lance grimaces. "How bad?"

"Depends on if I'm right or not."

"Just do it!" he says through gritted teeth.

"I'm sorry," is all she says before she yanks out the arrow, relief flooding through her as she takes in the smooth tip.

Lance whimpers, blood beading at his lip from where his teeth pierced his flesh.

“It’s okay,” Pidge mutters under her breath, willing her blood soaked hands to be steady as she takes off his outer vest. “You’re okay.”

Lance’s face is scrunched up in pain, his breathing labored. "Undressing me already?" his smirk turns into a wince. "Who's being scandalous now?"

Pidge lets out a laugh that comes out as a sob. She works quickly, tying the tatters of his vest around the wound on his leg and pulling it tight.

“Breath for me, your majesty,” she tries to comfort him. “In and out.” She takes her own shaky breaths in and out, nodding encouragingly at him.

Somehow he manages to look offended. “Darling Pidge, please. It’s Lance. How many times must I tell you.”

She rolls her eyes. "Well, you seem to be healing up nicely." Standing, she offers her hand to him. "Shall we?"

Lance moves to accept but stops, his face knitting in confusion and worry. Pidge kneels before him, scanning him for any other injuries.

"What is it?"

“My legs,” Lance groans. “I can’t feel them.”

Pidge grabs the discarded arrow, a sinking feeling in her gut. She sniffs the tip. Poison.

Lance must notice her grimace. He sighs. “That bad, huh?”

Someone shouts, not far from them. Pidge's hands grip at his shoulders as she begins to drag him further into the thicket. "It's going to be alright," she pants.

Sweat beads at her brow, her breathing becomes labored. She stumbles, falling onto her back with a groan. Lance looks at her, concerned.

"Leave me. Go get help."  _ And save yourself. _

She shakes her head, back on her feet and pulls him up again. "Help me and get up!" she doesn't care that her tone is not suited for a prince. She doesn't care that if they get out of this, he could have her cast out of the court. All she cares about is keeping him alive.

But Lance's face is calm, so calm.

He stops pushing, stops trying to haul himself forward.

Pidge shakes her head, pulling on his arm.

He does not move. Not an inch.

His blue eyes meet hers and there is no fear in them.

Lance says to her, clear and steady. “I heard rumors of you. Tales of the girl who defied death, dragging her brother and father with her. Her beauty matched only by her mind. And I knew…”

Pidge sobs, tugging. 

Lance smiles at her--gently. Sweetly. In a way that she only saw once before.

“I loved you before I even set eyes on you.”

“Please,” Pidge weeps, her hand grasping at his.

Lance’s hand tightens on hers. “I wish we had more time.”

“No.” She shakes her head, her resolve firm. “I shall not leave you.”

Lance coughs, blood staining his teeth. “Then you are a fool. An insignificant prince such as myself is hardly worth losing your life over.”

“And if you cannot see that to me you are everything, if you do not know how I feel about you yet,” Pidge chokes back a sob, falling to her knees and clutching his hand to her heart. “Then you are the fool.”

A twig snaps in the distance and she presses a finger to his lips before using her remaining strength to push him into a nearby ditch, sweeping in fallen leaves and sticks

Carefully, she crawls on top of him, one of his hands snaking around her waist and splaying protectively on her back. She buries her face in his neck, holding tight. His free hand rests on her chin, turning her to look at him. She scoots up, pressing her forehead against his. She doesn’t know if she's crying or if it's the rain, but he wipes the drops of wetness away with this thumb. 

If they were lucky, whoever was chasing them would pass right by, not sparing them a second glance.

If they weren't... well, at least they'd go together.

Hand in hand.

Heart in heart.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> comments are always appreciated!


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